Cold
by superninja
Summary: A JLA silly-fic...or is it? Rated for language.


Cold

By superninja

All characters belong to Warner Bros./DC Comics. This story is not intended for profit.

***

Flash sat in the Monitor Womb of the JLA Watchtower his chin propped up on one of his hands.

He was bored. Absently, he pressed a button and watched the multiple screens change showing different views of Earth below. Oh, look…The cast of Friends asking for another salary increase. Tension building between India and Pakistan. The Yen was down again. Naked News. Enron under investigation by Congress (lucky for him Batman had told him to dump his stock).

Oracle's voice came over the monitoring system, her symbol appearing on the screen reserved for encrypted communications.

*Finally,* Flash thought to himself. *Some action.*

"Incoming message for you, Flash," she said, cutting out after linking the transmissions.

"Hey, Wally," said a whisper of a voice, followed by a cough.

"What's up, Kyle?" Flash replied. "You're on duty in two minutes. Where are you?"

"That's what I'm calling about…"

"Ah, no…" Flash groaned and leaned back in the chair. His butt was starting to hurt, ergonomics be damned.

"Sorry, man," said Green Lantern weakly. "I'm sick." He blew his nose.

Flash winced at the disgustingly wet sound. "Whatever happened to 'In darkest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight'?!"

"Blame the GL Corps. They give me this fancy ring, but can't find a cure for the common cold."

"Great," said Flash, staring up blankly at the ceiling. He had planned a quiet evening, just him and the wife. His mind started wondering over the possibilities of his lost evening: lose the costume, nice quiet dinner, watch some t.v., maybe a little nookie…

Definitely a little nookie.

"Um, Wally?"

"What?" The Flash was shaken out of his reverie, and started tapping a finger slowly on the armrest, building it up into a thumping furor.

"Sorry."

***

The JLA gathered for their weekly meeting, as Superman called it to order. The chair of Green Lantern was noticeably empty.

"Hey, where's GL?" asked Plastic Man, taking the shape of a giant lantern.

"Green Lantern is ill," said Martian Manhunter.

"Duuude!" replied Plastic Man. "Is it a technovirus?" he asked, changing into Neo from the Matrix. "Is it food poisoning?" he morphed into the shape of a large salmon, little x's dotting its eyes. "Is it the cramps?"

He was about to change into a feminine product, but looked over at Wonder Woman, who narrowed her eyes at him.

"He has a common cold," said the Martian.

"Eeek!" said Plas, sliding back into his chair and resuming his normal appearance. "That's stuff's contagious. I hope I don't get it."

The room became still, Superman still standing over the table with his mouth open, waiting for Plastic Man to shut up.

The silence was broken. 

By Batman.

Sniffling.

"What?" Batman said sharply.

Superman sighed and began speaking. "I have an update on the situation with Metallo. He's been put into custody, but I'm still concerned about the recent crime-wave of robotics materials in…"

Batman sniffed again.

Superman paused, and then continued. "Any thoughts?"

"I've had Oracle trace all of his recent calls, but nothing's come up to suggest a pattern," said Batman.

"Nothing on my end," said Flash, glancing suspiciously over at Batman. He'd noticed Batman had become very rigid. More so than normal, at least. He was shaking a little, as though he was trying to hold in…

Batman gave a slight cough.

"Are you sick?" asked Diana accusingly, glancing over at him.

A panicked expression drew over Plas' face.

"No," he replied. "I don't get sick."

"Hm," she grumbled, raising an eyebrow and turning back towards Superman.

"J'onn?" Superman asked, looking over at the Martian.

"I did a mind-scan of Metallo, as you requested. He was gathering robotics technology, but nothing that would seem to indicate a larger, more…"

Batman cleared his throat with a gurgle.

"You ARE sick," said Diana, swiveling in her chair to face him.

"Is Athena a little 'slow' today?" he said, narrowing his eyes. "I said I'm not sick."

"Sure sound sick to me," muttered Flash, while staring down at the table.

"No activity in my arena," said Wonder Woman, edging her chair away from Batman.

***

Kyle opened his eyes when he heard the phone ring. It was like trying to pry them open with toothpicks. He still had eight pages to draw before his deadline, and things weren't looking too good.

The phone rang for the third time, and the answering machine picked up.

"Hello?!" came an angry female voice, over the sound of his recording. "Hell-O?!"

The shouted "Hellos" continued until he banged on the answering machine, finally shutting it off. 

"Yes?" he answered faintly.

"This is Lois Lane," she said in a clipped manner, suggesting to Kyle that she was, in fact, as angry as she sounded.

"The reporter?" he asked, his mind covered by a thin layer of sickly fog.

"Let me just ask you this: Do you know what a Super-Sneeze is like?!"

Kyle's brain slowly tried to add the two together. Super. Sneeze. Oh, right, Lois was married to Clark, who was…

"Let me tell you what it's like," she said, before he could answer, his mouth open to respond. "It's like being blown across the room, covered in snot," she paused. "Yeah, that's right." 

Kyle closed his mouth and then his eyes, leaning back on the bed.

"So, for future reference, before you go spreading your germs all over the Watchtower, I would think twice!"

Kyle dropped the receiver, listening to the noise emanating from the floor. It reminded him of Charlie Brown. And Charlie Brown reminded him of being a kid again. He turned over in the bed, and dreamt of his mother feeding him chicken soup.

***

Batman sat as his computer, going over the latest batch of crimes, updating his database. He mentally kicked himself for letting the Mad Hatter escape. A few seconds too slow and the man had escaped, although he had shut his operation down.

When did this become so difficult?

He just felt tired. It wasn't the first time, but this was different. It was like his body was giving out on him. Sick. The word appeared visually in the dark depths of his mind, and he realized he'd closed his eyes.

He was NOT SICK. He refused to believe it.

Opening them, he looked up the stairway to the manor. Where was Alfred with his damn tea?

Taking a deep breath, he sighed it out. He'd pissed Alfred off, and he'd left. Batman was alone, in his cave, with no one to turn to but himself.

Nothing but him and this damn cold!

He had admitted it. 

Finally, after all these years.

He had a cold.

So what? The Batman has a cold.

"Allllfred!" he yelled into the darkness.

***

Flash came home, weary from his battle with the Weather Wizard. He'd escaped…AGAIN. Why the hell did he capture these people if someone wasn't going to keep them captured?!

Changed into his clothes, so as not to draw any attention to his hero identity, he walked to the door of his apartment, and stopped. There were voices inside. That meant guests.

Great.

He slowly turned the key in the lock, and jerked back as the door opened, powered by his friend, the villain-formerly-known-as-Pied-Piper.

There was a beer in his hand, and Wally stared into his apartment as the thumping sounds of musical bass caught up with him. A party. Oh, no. Not a party. Please, anything but a party.

"Hey, Wally, come join the fun!" his friend said, dragging him inside.

Wally followed his lead, through the mess of a kitchen (how long have these guys been drinking?), and into the living room.

Who were these people, and why were they in his house? The beat of the loud music made him want to either fall asleep, or yell at someone. He glanced over the crowd, and finally found Linda dancing with another girl, raising her Bud Lite in her hand to acknowledge him. In most cases, he wouldn't have a problem with that. In fact, he would've liked it. But right now, all the bodies swimming past him, the smell of beer invading his nostrils. Who's fucking idea WAS this?

"PARTY'S OVER!" said Wally over the music, as everyone turned and stared at him.

***

"Great He-e-e," Wonder Woman said, trying to catch herself. "Great Hera!" she said, finally blowing a massive sneeze into the tissue.

"It'll be okay, Diana," said Donna, offering her a glass of water and an aspirin. 

"I swear, it was Batman," she answered, tossing the pill to the back of her throat and drinking the water deeply. "We were all fine until HE showed up," she yelled into the tissue that still covered her nose giving it a pinched alto.

Donna started laughing. "I-I'm sorry," she said, clutching her stomach. "It's just that you're so cute when you're sick."

Wonder Woman took the tissue away, and frowned. "I'm not supposed to be cute," she added with a huff. "I'm supposed to be serious." She looked up at Donna. "I wish mother were here. She would know what to do."

Donna felt herself grow heavy, and sighed wistfully. "Yes, I suppose she would." She paused as memories of their mother flooded her head. A smile tweaked at the corner of her mouth. "But I bet she would get a laugh out of Wonder Woman, defeated by a cold!"

Diana stared back at her sister as they both began laughing in earnest, ending with Wonder Woman falling back into the bed and groaning, but with a smile on her face.

***

Plastic Man sighed, and leaned back into the bed. He was waiting, pausing plaintively to think of all the things he would say right. Everything that would make her fall in love with him all over again.

His ex-wife entered the room, carrying a tray that was giving off vapors. 

"Oh, God," he said, looking upwards. "I hope it's chicken soup. From scratch. You know the kind I'm talking about."

She sidled up to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, in what Eel thought was the position that would put her furthest from him, but deliver the tray of food at the same time.

"Here's your food," she said bluntly. "It looks like your bimbo secretary didn't come through after all…"

Eel was about to make a nasty face, but the truth was the secretary for his detective agency was nowhere in sight, and his only hope was his ex-wife caring for him.

He turned, and coughed into his pillow dramatically.

"I'm…not hungry."

"Look," she said, staring down at him. "You HAVE to eat. So just eat it, already!"

"No," he replied, grasping the pillow, "No…I just can't."

The corner of her mouth caught. He was faking again, like always. As much as she'd grown to despise him, these moments reminded her of why she'd ever loved him.

"Made it from scratch," she said, in a sing-song voice.

"Scratch?" he asked, peeking up at her.

"Yes. Just for you."

"O-okay," he said with feinted weakness.

***

J'onn sat in the Monitor Womb of the JLA Watchtower his chin propped up on one of his hands.

He was bored. Absently, he pressed a button and watched the multiple screens change showing different views of Earth below. Oh, look…The cast of Friends negotiating for another salary increase. Tension still building between India and Pakistan. The Yen was down, again. Naked News. Enron under investigation by Congress (lucky for him Batman had told him to dump his stock).

Oracle's voice came over the monitoring system, her symbol appearing on the screen reserved for encrypted communications.

*Finally,* J'onn thought to himself. *Some action.*

"We've got a problem."

"What?" said J'onn.

"The JLA have a cold."

The End 


End file.
